


rare jewels

by c0mingofage



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan is great and rich, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Historical, England is England, F/M, Fluff, NOT a slowburn, Praise Kink, Size Kink, in which the author took liberties, with history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0mingofage/pseuds/c0mingofage
Summary: Clear stones were almost pedestrian compared to Alderaan's rare red-hued diamonds, the most famous of which now sits in England’s collection of Crown Jewels. It was given as a gift to Padme Amidala by her lover, the late and terrible Skywalker King, Anakin.And yet. Ben had brought with him twenty heavy chests full of it for his bride.It appears as though Anakin's grandson wanted to upstage him.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Reylo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	1. Benjamin

**Author's Note:**

> ❤️

The day the Princes of Alderaan arrived in Weymouth, they had brought with them hundreds of men and their horses too, in great big ships with sails bearing the interlaced curves of their crest. The townspeople remarked on their armor, polished and dark as night amidst the slaving beige and the blue of the Channel. The pair of them, quite large and handsome for nobles, the people said, stood side by side in the port, overseeing their men lugging down heavy, massive iron chests from the ships to horse wagons, hooded in white cloth. 

The Princes had an air of arrogance about them, with their noble ennui and royal, narrow faces. The one with shorter hair, some of the merchants said, had smiled brightly at the women who offered fragrant meat pies and handed over shillings as though they were but pebbles. He had cajoled his brother to try one, but the other prince, older that much is obvious, had maintained his scowl, back straight on an empty stomach. Sour and hard as his demeanor might have been, his men maintained order and were polite to the seafarers and fishermen as they went about their work. 

However still. There were  _ soldiers  _ in the  _ port _ . 

The people of Dorset, mostly untouched by the civil strife of the northern borders had been decidedly ruffled. It was lucky, then, that they did not stay long. Work had finished for the Alderaanians when Anthony Finneas, Marquess Weymouth had arrived with his own entourage. Dark skinned and beloved, the sailors positively fell at his feet and the people breathed out what seemed to be a collective sigh of relief. They saw then, how the streets overflowed with sheathed swords and easy gaits. 

Weymouth greeted the royals with dignified flair, bowing from the waist. He said, loudly enough for the people to hear, “Your Highnesses, I bid you welcome to England.”

The soldiers were quick to file into neat lines, the wagons placed between rows of men in horses, a sea of iron in the cobblestone path. The younger prince rode in a large wooden carriage, and his older brother mounted a black horse in the vanguard together with Weymouth on his white stead. They had an easy silence about them that spoke of definitely having met before, perhaps more than once.

Together then, they turned their gazes east and marched to Westminster. 

“Looks like we’ll need a bath soon then, lads,” a fisherman had remarked to his companions as the  _ cavalry  _ began its parade, “a royal wedding is upon us.”

* * *

They were diamonds, Finn knew they were diamonds. 

Possibly taken from the famous royal mines of Red Benjamin, a city that had been renamed after the crown prince upon his birth. 

Alderaan was a lush and generous land and deep in its northern region in the Juran Mountains, the ground glimmered with the rare gem, oozing by the billions from the earth. It had made Alderaan’s rulers some of the richest in all the world. Clear stones were almost pedestrian compared to the red-hued diamonds, the most famous of which now sits in England’s collection of Crown Jewels. It was given as a gift to Padme Amidala I by her lover, the late and terrible Skywalker King, Anakin. It appears as though his grandson wanted to upstage him in his notoriety.

All of the mines were controlled by the Royal House, and guarded with only the best from the Skywalker army, with a perimeter that extended hundreds of kilometers from the deposits. A small portion of the navy dedicated its time guarding the beaches that lined the Red Lands to the north and the east from pirates and invaders  —  the Queen spared no expense for her beloved exports. 

In spite of Finn's many visits to Alderaan during the marriage negotiations, he hadn’t been able to step foot within a mile of the mines. Hadn’t even been allowed outside of Aldera. The Red Lands were forbidden to outsiders, were forbidden to most people, really, for the precious and unique red-tinged diamonds were sacred to the Alderaanians. Not sacred enough not to sell to the highest bidders, but sacred all the same. 

And yet. Ben had brought with him twenty heavy chests full of it. 

“Are those what I think they are, Your Highness?” Finn asked. 

Ben gave him a sidelong glance, “What do you think they are?”

“They,” he said, “explain the soldiers.”

They were just approaching Alresford. The sky was turning into a glum shade of gray, casting a shadow over the wheat fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was nothing but the occasional windmill here and there. 

“England smells like shit, Weymouth,” the Prince said, not unkindly, “Does it always smell like this?” 

“More or less. You get used to it.”

“You get used to the smell of shit?”

“I suppose not. It must be quite an adjustment from a lifetime of clean mountain air.”

“Well, it’s a good start. This marriage will demand me to adjust to a great number more things, I presume.”

“Wise, Your Highness.”

The Prince did not deign to continue the conversation after that. A few hours later, they reached Alresford. 


	2. Welcome to London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Renata was very beautiful. She looked at him over her smooth shoulder, showing off a wonderfully smooth neck adorned by jewels. She had an open, unmarked face, a wide mouth, and large expressive brown eyes. 
> 
> Those eyes told him, “Hello, Benjamin, I’m your wife.”
> 
> Atop her head sat a delicate diadem of golden looping vines connected by roses encrusted with diamonds. Clear diamonds. The first time he saw her portrait, the first time he saw her diamonds, he thought to himself, "She’d look so much better in red."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a delayed update.

The Crown Prince would be lying if he said he had agreed to marry Renata, the English Princess, for purely political reasons.

 _Certainly not marrying her for English ale_ , he thought as he looked over his men, and his brother, getting drunker by the minute in a tavern decidedly unfit for Alderaanian royalty in Alresford.

Jacen was sitting on a table in the middle of the hall, with Weymouth’s escorts and Weymouth himself, reciting filthy limericks much to the delight of their soldiers.

Ben sat in the corner alone nursing his third meat pie.

If he was being honest, he couldn’t actually remember why he agreed to marry the English princess now that he had been riding hard for nearly a fortnight for her. His body had barely seen a bed, and he feared he was beginning to smell as bad as England the longer he spent in her godforsaken country.

 _So, why?_ He asked himself. There are plenty of beautiful brown-haired beauties in his own country. None of them required him to stink or ache or eat tough cuts of meat.

Absentmindedly, he brushed a finger in the center of his iron-clad chest. Underneath his armor, underneath his chain mail, underneath his tunic, was a small locket from a thin chain around his neck. In it was a replica of Renata’s portrait, the same one that Weymouth had arrived with during his first visit to Alderaan.

Yes, there were plenty of beautiful brunettes in his country.

None of them had her eyes.

It was said that the English Queen, Satine, was a kind sort, benevolent and peace-loving, but having her deputy bring that painting was a stroke of cunning genius, or at least that’s how Ben saw it.

Princess Renata was very beautiful. She looked at him over her smooth shoulder, showing off a wonderfully smooth neck adorned by jewels. She had an open, unmarked face, a wide mouth, and large expressive brown eyes.

Those eyes told him, “Hello, Benjamin, I’m your wife.”

Atop her head sat a delicate diadem of golden looping vines connected by roses encrusted with diamonds. Clear diamonds. The first time he saw her portrait, the first time he saw her diamonds, he thought to himself, _she’d look so much better in red._

That simple fact doesn’t make his buttocks hurt less from all the hours of riding a goddamn warhorse through the English countryside, but the mere reminder of it almost made him forget how incredibly sore he was.

“Brother!” Jacen was shouting as he stumbled his way past tables, kissing a barmaid or two along the way. “What rhymes with dunk?”

“I’m not a poet,” Ben said, darkly.

Jacen slammed a half-empty glass of ale on the table, and looked at him as if he was asking the most important question anyone in the known world had ever asked, “What rhymes with dunk, you son of a whore!”

Ben looked at his ale-soaked meat pie and said, “ _You_ are being _cunt_.”

Jacen, drunken fool, collapsed in a fit of giggles, “Ah, yes, my brother, the Crown Prince.”

He turned to the soldiers and loudly went, “If you’re up for a dunk, might as well do it in a cunt.”

By the time the roaring laughter from the soldiers had abated, Ben found himself smiling. He pushed away his ruined meal and helped his brother into the seat beside him. Jacen finished his entire glass before he spoke, more like slurred really, “English ale, Ben. It’s terrible but it does its job so, so well.”

“I can’t wait for you to regret this in the morning.”

“Ah, where’s your sense of merriment, brother?” Jacen lifted a hand to beckon a barmaid over. Her humungous breasts were hanging off her dress as he poured ale for the Alderaanian princes. Ben politely looked at her eyes, Jacen rudely didn’t. “We’re in foreign soil, drinking terrible foreign ale, drowning in foreign teats.”

The barmaid smirked flirtatiously at Jacen and winked before she moved on to the next table.

“ _You’re_ drowning in foreign teats,” Ben said, taking a drink.

He had always been aware he was the uglier brother, the uglier sibling, for like Jacen their sister Jaina was a great beauty, but he wasn’t vain enough to let it bother him. Crown Princes had no time for vanity during wartime, and Ben hasn’t known peace since the breathtakingly insane Duke of Savoy, Victor Snoke became Victor II, King of France, and began routinely threatening their borders by slaughtering their men and sending warships to bomb their navy in the North Beach of the Red Lands.

He was tired of battlefields. The Prince would be lying if he said he had agreed to marry Renata for _purely_ political reasons or even for _purely impure_ reasons. Gaining access to King Obi-Wan’s legendary longbows was also quite the advantage.

“You got the crown, and I got the looks, we’re both still winners,” Jacen said, “besides, you haven’t wanted to stick your thingamabob,” Ben let out an unprincely snort at that, “in anyone since the marriage negotiations, don’t pretend like you even want to drown in foreign teats that are not attached to your wife.”

Ben stared at his little brother and hoped it looked threatening. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Jacen simply smiled back, at ease. He’d never been afraid of his brother, not once, in his entire life, not even when Ben became a fierce warrior, feared and beloved but mostly feared. Their childhood had been too surrounded by love for fear to ever take hold and corrupt. And so, he said, as sober as he could manage, “I apologize, I was out of line.”

Ben nodded and reached over to pat him in the back of his neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to let him know that he was forgiven.

“Now!” Jacen stood, swaying, “Who has a word that rhymes with cunt?”

The tavern exploded with noises of delight.

Not long after, when the rhymes grew tired, someone began humming the tune of a familiar lullaby. Jacen stood atop a table, singing from his chest together with his comrades, “Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers. Those you loved are with you still — the moon will help you remember.”

Ben sat back, sang the lines, and watched his brother shine.

* * *

From Alresford, it was another week of nigh uninterrupted riding to get to London. Finn observed that the night at the tavern was never once again replicated. The Crown Prince seemed impatient, almost desperate, to finally set foot in London, and had very little regard for the wellness of those traveling with him.

The soldiers seemed to have been holding up well, perhaps used to the His Highness’ short nature. Finn had spent enough time with all of them to hear stories of his great victories in battle. His men loved him, his brother loved him, yet the part of Finn that had warmed to him in Alderaan grew colder by the day. It was difficult to continue holding someone in high esteem when said someone was only letting you sleep three hours every night. It had to be said though, that while Finn was beginning to hate him a little bit, he could appreciate his focus and in times when he was allowed his bits of rest, he could admit to himself that really, the Prince wasn’t to blame for this ridiculousness.

Really, it was Rey.

Rey, his oldest, most beloved friend. It was she who wanted to get married in England. It was a stipulation in the marriage contract — she demanded she be married in the Abbey and much to everyone’s surprise, even, he thought, hers, the Organas obliged the request. 

The party reached Westminster in the dead of the night, eight days after they left Alresford.

It would have been an understatement to say Finn was exhausted and was thankful that they did not have an audience with the King until the morning.

It could only be called a miracle that His Majesty’s trusted advisor Eurof, the grand old Duke of Kent, affectionately and confusingly called Yoda by almost everyone at court, was there in the yard waiting for them to arrive. He looked remarkably at ease considering the fact that he was way too ancient to be up at that hour.

Yoda slipped into a bow as the Crown Prince dismounted his warhorse. Finn watched with delight as His Royal Highness tried to act as though his legs didn’t feel as unsteady as clotted cream until he remembered that he too had to dismount, and he was much less trained at hard riding than the warrior prince he was escorting.

“Your Highness,” Yoda was saying, “welcome to London.”

“Kent,” the Prince greeted in return. He looked pained to have to be polite when he asked, “I trust you’re well?”

“As well as a walking corpse could be.”

The Prince smirked, “If anyone smells like they’re rotting between you and me, it would be me.”

“I’d love to disagree, Your Highness, but we both know how terrible I am at perjury.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw the other black-haired Prince making his way to the front of the party from his plush carriage. Finn would have loved to hate Jacen for his ability to travel comfortably around his brother’s and everyone else’s discomfort, but he’d heard in the Alderaanian court that the Prince sustained a horrible injury on his leg during a battle with the French.

Never quite healed right, a courtier said. If you watch him walk very closely, you can see it.

Finn can see it now. He suspected the carriage wasn’t very comfortable after all for the Prince, who was walking with an obvious limp that wasn’t there when he first met them in Dorset what felt like forever ago.

“Your Highness,” Yoda bowed once again as Jacen approached, “Shall we see you to your rooms? You both look like you could use a warm bath.”

Finn watched the three of them make their way to Westminster Hall and noted how hilariously short Yoda seemed next to the towering Organa brothers. He then tossed the reins of his horse to the stable boy and went in search of a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think in the comments! This is such a silly story.


	3. Little Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crown Prince was in the palace. 
> 
> Rey wasn’t quite sure how she knew he had arrived, but it was her first thought when she woke up that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the chapter count because I'm just having way too much fun with this. Hope none of you mind. 
> 
> Enjoy reading, and thank you so much for being here!

The Crown Prince was in the palace.

Rey wasn’t quite sure how she knew he had arrived, but it was her first thought when she woke up that morning. Ever since she was a child, she has always had these… _feelings_ , sometimes they came in dreams, sometimes a shiver, and sometimes they were voices in the wind. Her mother called it “little whispers” but that day, as she watched Rose and Kay flit about her bedchamber, pushing open curtains to let in the dreary, gray sunlight of London and clearing her messes from the night prior, she realized the whispers weren’t quite little. In fact, that day, they weren’t even whispers.

Rey pushed off her covers and moved to stand by the tall windows near her bed.

 _The Crown Prince was in the palace. He’s come for you,_ the voices said.

But then, something else.

Beyond her windows was a clear view of the woods that surrounded much of the palace. Lush, green trees stood there as they have for hundreds of years. She went riding in the woods first thing most days much to the chagrin of her mother, but the King insisted their daughter be allowed some of the same freedoms her older brother Edward was afforded. And so, she was given breeches, and she was given a horse named Sir Beebee.

She had no plans of riding today, what with her betrothed being in the vicinity and all, but something in the woods was calling to Rey, she felt like she was being pulled.

 _A treasure hides in the trees. It is yours_ , the little whispers said.

It was persistent enough that Rey found herself turning to Kay and saying the words, “Would you be a dear, and ask a stable boy to prepare my horse?” before she knew what she was doing.

Rose immediately halted her perusal of Rey’s dresses and asked, “Your Highness?”

“I’d love a ride, just a short one,” she explained.

Rose and Kay looked at one another. In the end, it was Kaydel who said, “Your Highness, I’m afraid the Queen asked us to prepare you for nothing else but a walk in the gardens with your betrothed. The Alderaanians arrived last night—"

“Yes, I know,” Rey sighed.

Kaydel, quite used to Rey _knowing things_ , soldiered on, “— and, well, the Crown Prince apparently asked if he could finally meet you.”

“After you break fast,” Rose added. “We wouldn’t have you meeting that…giant on an empty stomach.”

Rey turned sharply to the Countess, who was perhaps her closest friend, “A giant?”

“I caught sight of him in the courtyard on my way here, my lady,” Rose explained.

An impossible breeze passed through Rey’s hands. Her room had no open windows.

“He was enormous,” Rose continued, “I wonder what they eat in Alderaan to make them quite so large. His brother too,” she held up her hands and stretched open her fingers, “huge man. Black of hair, armored, and just enormous. I have never seen anyone so elegantly tall.”

Rey smirked in amusement, “Sounds like His Highness made an impression. ‘Elegantly tall’?”

Rose blushed. “They’re just…foreign, that’s all.”

The Alderaanians _were_ foreign to most of the English court, but perhaps less so to Rey. Their Queen, a legendary warrior and general, was a woman Rey’s father the King called by her first name. Leia. As if they were family.

Many, many years before Rey was born, before her father was even King, the French attempted to take control of Alderaan in a brutal military campaign not dissimilar to the one they had launched and once again lost just a few months before the royal engagement.

Alderaan, then led by King Bail of the House Organa, couldn’t have won that war without the valiant support of the English army.

Rey’s childhood had not been without stories of that war: she grew up hearing about the incredible, fearless woman Alderaan’s then-princess was, her incredible, fearless red diamond-encrusted armor, and the incredible, fearless letter she had written King Obi-Wan when she had asked for his help. That letter sits undisturbed and folded in half, its contents hidden to those who are curious, behind a glass cube in the middle of the palace’s library. That letter has its own guards.

Truth be told, Rey couldn’t wait to meet Queen Leia, a woman respected by Kings.

She couldn’t wait to visit Alderaan.

She couldn’t wait to see and touch more of its legendary red diamonds, for she had only ever seen the one that belonged to her great grand-aunt Padme, and was forbidden to even hold it.

But, she was quite nervous to meet the Crown Prince.

The little whispers told Rey nothing of him except that he was in some way… _right_. Although right for what, she had no idea. She had no idea who he was outside of rumors and stories and legends, and she never trusted any of those, no matter how much she loved to hear them. The way courtiers talked about him, it was like he was the greatest warrior the world has ever seen. All the talk of bravery and brutality wasn’t exactly unexciting for Rey.

But that was all they were. Talk.

Queen Leia didn’t even deign to send a portrait of her son during the marriage negotiations, which took months and months and months.

Even though the union of Alderaan and England by marriage had been King Obi-Wan’s idea, Rey knew the negotiations dragged on for so long because of his affection for her. She wasn’t permitted to attend the conferences, but during their routine suppers, Edward gave her a rundown of the great many things their father was pledging to the Alderaanians — soldiers and archers for wars, ships for their navy, continued loyalty — all for the promise that Rey would be treated with kindness, and of course, all the arrangements that would ensure it.

“I’m almost jealous, dear sister,” Edward said playfully during one of those nights. Her brother was a spitting image of their mother, light-skinned, blonde-haired, and bright-eyed. The little whispers always seemed happy when he was around.

He continued, “All he asked for when I married Antonietta was twenty barrels of assorted Campania wines every month.”

She was very lucky, to have such a doting, loving father. It made being a dutiful daughter easy.

Her father granted a great many things to Alderaan and asked for a great many things in return for her. And yet. He didn’t ask for a portrait. Finn took multiple trips to Alderaan, and every time he came back to England, he did so with fewer and fewer appeals from the Organa Queen, and exactly no portraits.

Rey knew nothing of the man who would be her husband.

Except, apparently, that he was very large.

“Finn told me the Alderaanians brought with them twenty iron chests,” Rose was saying as she perused through Rey’s assortment of fine dresses, “— what are we feeling today, Your Highness? Perhaps pink? — and hundreds and hundreds of soldiers to guard them. Although when he said ‘them’ I couldn’t quite tell if he was talking about the Princes or the iron chests.”

Perhaps the Princes liked to travel with a lot of clothes, Rey wanted to say but settled instead on not saying anything at all. She didn’t want to have this conversation. The little whispers were beckoning her to the woods.

“Rose,” she said, sternly. “I’d like you to ask a stable boy to prepare my horse.”

Rose turned away from a beautiful pale pink silk dress, embroidered with red and white roses, to take one glance at her dear friend’s eyes. Something there prompted her to nod, bow, and say, “As you wish, Your Highness.”

“But, Your Highness, my lady, wait,” Kaydel started. “The Queen said—"

“I know what mother said,” Rey murmured, watching Rose glide out of the room with a determined look on her face, no doubt headed for the stables.

* * *

Rey made her way down to the kitchen to swipe an apple from the cooks, all of whom greeted her with smiles, unbothered by her tight breeches and wild, undone hair, before heading for the stables. When she got there, Snap, the stable master had Sir Beebee saddled and was holding his reins.

“Great day for riding today, Your Highness,” Snap said, but then he always said that even when it wasn’t true. His hands immediately rose to protect her as she mounted her horse.

“Thank you, Snap,” she winked at him conspiratorially, and he laughed before bowing goodbye.

Off she rode, leading Sir Beebee briskly North, where the oldest trees were. When the tallest tower of the palace began to fade from view, Rey pulled on the reins and slowed them down to a sluggish pace. She was surrounded by green and earth and peace, and the little whispers seemed content, quiet except for little bits of direction here and there.

They led her to a towering beech tree with wild branches and fragrant leaves.

Under its shade sat massive iron chests boasting Alderaan’s crest. There must have been more than ten of them, just sitting there.

In the bloody woods.

 _A treasure hides in the trees. It is yours_.

“Well, this was supposed to be a surprise.”

Rey startled, immediately turning to where the voice came from. There, just behind her horse, was a tall and broad man. She immediately thought she should be afraid, but the little whispers hushed her, and said, once again, _a treasure hides in the trees. It is yours_. And besides, he looked far too embarrassed to be anything but vaguely amusing. It was sort of a treat to see such a large man look so sheepish.

A surprise? She wanted to ask but found that she couldn’t quite speak.

She realized he’d taken her breath away.

He had luscious dark hair, a striking, unique face marked with scars, and his broadsword was unsheathed but strangely unthreatening, as he pointed the tip down on the ground and was holding the hilt loosely.

He was wearing armor, dark as night, decorated with, of course, Alderaan’s crest.

And he was looking at her like she’d maybe taken his breath away too.

She knew immediately this was him. The Crown Prince.

“Your Highness,” she whispered.

He smiled and looked so wholly relieved, although she couldn’t understand why. She’s never felt rawer in her life.

The Crown Prince straightened and bowed from his neck without taking his eyes off her, “Your Highness.”

 _A treasure hides in the trees. It is yours_.

For a moment, time stood still, and Rey simply looked upon Benjamin.

 _A treasure hides in the trees. It is yours_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little whispers are the Force.


	4. The Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Red diamonds,” Rey gasped at the mere mention of them, which made the Crown Prince smile, “are very valuable, but contrary to popular belief, they are not hard to come by. At least, not for me. What is hard is trying to convince my mother to part with them for a price that most people would consider fair.”
> 
> “Why does she love them so?”
> 
> “You’d have to ask her,” he said. She hadn’t noticed how close the Crown Prince had gotten to her until she could smell the sweet berries he ate that morning in his breath, “But my guess would be because they are unique gemstones. Singular, and no one else has them but for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bitch to write. It took me four drafts and a couple of days and I still don't love the way it turned out. Let's hope you like it more than I do.

She was startled. 

It took Rey a while to even recognized the feeling. She hasn’t been surprised by anyone or anything, not since she started feeling the little whispers when she was a small child. It made for a safe life yet a world-weary one. She could always tell a person’s bad intentions from a mile away and knew better to associate herself with those who would laugh at her and her family’s pain, even for the sake of propriety. Her attitude made the nobles wary of her, they called her “strong-willed” and “wily.”

Nothing ever, _ever_ took her by surprise.

And yet.

The Crown Prince was, as Rose said, _enormous_. His shoulders were broad, his hips and thighs were thick, he was as imposing as the trees that surrounded them. Now that she was aware of him, she could almost hear his heartbeat in the breeze, strong and solid. She watched as he sheathed his sword into the scabbard that hung off his trim waist and tried to ignore the not unpleasant butterflies that particular action made her feel.

His eyes were soft where his body was hard. Pretty. He was pretty for someone built like a tree, and yet someone had tried to split his face open not too long ago, based on the scar that ran from his forehead to his jaw, and crawled under his armor. If she concentrated, she could almost see the man who did it, but she couldn’t quite do that because, well.

He was smiling. Softly. Like he was welcoming her scrutiny. 

He was going to be her husband and she couldn’t think around him, couldn’t see around him, didn’t even see him coming. _Why?_

She asked, instead, “Were you following me?”

“No, I was already here,” he said, his voice deep and low and pleasant. 

The Crown Prince was rooted in his place even as she prompted Sir Beebee to amble closer to the tree and the iron chests. They looked heavy, and after a quick count, Rey estimated that there were indeed twenty of them. Some were stacked atop each other so that every single one could sit under the shade of the beech. 

In one smooth motion, she dismounted her horse and flung the reins around a thick, low sloping branch.

The second her feet touched the ground, she could feel them.

Alderaanians. Shivering in the cold London morning. There must have been 50 of them, and they must have been hiding behind trees for she could not see them but felt their life humming in the air, their blood flowing through their veins. 

The men were uncomfortable, unused to England’s weather. They had been standing watch all night, protecting the iron chests, this treasure that she knew was hers, and watch they did now. 

She shot a look at the Crown Prince as she listened to the little whispers say, _Is there loneliness as lonesome as distrust?_

The Crown Prince must be very lonely indeed.

“The rooms my father provided weren’t good enough for your treasure, Your Highness?” she asked. 

“Palaces have people in it, people have eyes and intentions and greed. Trees, on the other hand,” he said. 

“People pass through woods,” she reminded him, as though he was stupid which he clearly wasn’t. “You weren’t worried about those people?”

He shrugged, “No.”

“No, I suppose you don’t have to be,” she lifted her hands and made circles up in the air with her index finger. “Suppose, they’re doing all the worrying for you.”

The Crown Prince did something for her then: he allowed her to watch as a person with much more experience handling surprise take it with grace. His jaw fell, separating his lovely, plush lips and giving her a view of his lovely pink tongue and sharp-looking canines. His eyes widened, and his left eyebrow lifted. Perhaps he didn’t know it but he instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, as though he associated the emotion with killing. 

It was a masterclass.

And then he looked at her and asked her a question with his eyes before his mouth. “How do you know about that, Your Highness? In fact, how did you know we were keeping the chests in this location at all?”

She shrugged, hiding how ill-prepared she was to answer his questions with false confidence, “I suppose it was an accident. Or perhaps I’m just good at guessing.”

“That or a spy network,” he said, and she didn’t need the little whispers to know that he was making fun of her, “those are your only two options, I’m afraid.”

She decided to play along, “A spy network, huh? Sounds like a lot of work. I’m afraid I spend most of my days with horses. Do they count as spies?”

“This one here,” he tilted her head at Sir Beebee, moving a little bit closer to her with slow and sure steps, “looks a tad nefarious.”

She rolled her eyes at him and looked at the iron chest nearest her person. Alderaan’s crest sat proudly on what seemed to be all sides of it.

“What’s in these, Your Highness?” she asked, much softer than she intended. 

“You’re good at guessing, didn’t you say?” he was smirking, “Take a guess, Princess.”

“Is it a gift?” She already knew this.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She already knew this, too.

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“No.”

Rey ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of the way, “What do you mean?”

“Well, most of these are empty, you see.”

She looked back at the iron chest she had been observing. It looked so heavy, and was so heavily locked at multiple points that she was convinced what he was saying wasn’t quite the truth. She had no way of knowing for certain, though. The little whispers have grown quiet. 

“This is a trick, Your Highness,” he continued.

“A trick?”

“Red diamonds,” Rey gasped at the mere mention of them, which made the Crown Prince smile, “are very valuable, but contrary to popular belief, they are not hard to come by. At least, not for me. What is hard is convincing my mother to part with them for a price that most people would consider fair.”

His mother. Queen Leia. Rey was picturing her then, the fearless woman in armor decorated with red diamonds, “Why does she love them so?”

“You’d have to ask her,” he said. She hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten to her until she could smell the sweet berries he ate that morning in his breath, “But my guess would be because they are unique gemstones. Singular and beautiful, and no one else has them but us.”

He was beside her then. My God, she thought, what a handsome man. 

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

He smirked as if he was delighted to know a secret she didn’t. Rey smiled. 

And then, he knelt.

The key in his hand was a kind she had never seen before. It was long, even in his hands and its bow was shaped like a spade. The iron chest’s more obvious locks seemed to have been a deception too because he was sticking the key in places that didn’t appear to be locks at all. She heard the mechanisms turning every time he found a hidden keyhole. 

They weren’t just simple iron chests, she realized, they were puzzles.

Finally, when the last of the locks unlatched, the Crown Prince stood up, tucked the key back into his armor, and lifted the lid. 

Rey took a sharp breath, and her hands lifted to her chest. She could feel the pounding of her own heart under her touch. There they were. 

Before that very moment, Rey only saw one red diamond, a single one, on Queen Padme’s ring. It was no bigger than a pea and yet, it had a room of its own in the lowest depths of the palace. It rested in a bed of crushed velvet in a platform in the middle of the chamber. Her mother Satine took her to see it on her 16th birthday and she stood in awe of it for hours

“This will be yours when you grow older,” Queen Satine promised her. Rey remembered being excited for whenever “older” came, and she could wear the most coveted piece of jewelry in all the land. 

The legend went that the Skywalker King Anakin loved Queen Padme so much that he had given the ring to her as a gift, which doesn’t sound quite so scandalous if one didn’t mention that they were married to different people at that time. It was the very first red diamond that had been brought to the English isles. 

And now, Rey knew, it wasn’t going to be the last because there in that chest the Crown Prince had brought from his country, was thousands and thousands of red diamonds, cut in a thousand different ways, woven together with gold thread and sewn together to encrust the bodice of a glorious and extravagantly ornate dress. The Crown Prince reached in and held it up for her to see in all its glory. The skirt was an explosion of ruby red brocade, embroidered with gold thread and beaded with more red diamonds and pearls. 

It was a dress fit for a Queen.

And it was hers. 

The Crown Prince was sinking back on his knees again, tucking the dress into the safety of the chest before Rey was ready, and then, he was speaking before Rey could even begin to remember what breathing was. 

She turned to him, and she realized that she had tears in her eyes. He had been looking at her face the whole time. 

“Someday, you will be Queen of Alderaan,” he was down on his knees before her, looking up with eyes that had no mirth in them, only sincerity. She has known him for less than an hour and already, he’d turned her world upside down. He has known her for less than an hour and already, he was looking at her like he was looking forward to falling in love with her. 

And to think, just that morning they were strangers.

And to think, just a few moments ago, they were poking at each other, joking about, trying desperately to ignore the nagging feeling that they were led into the woods by the same forces, by the same destiny. 

Rey was sure at that moment that she wouldn’t have been able to form words, even if she tried. 

Good thing he was doing all the talking. 

He continued, “You deserve to have a wedding befitting of Alderaanian royalty, even if we are in England. Come tomorrow, when you are my wife, all that I am, all that I have will be yours. This,” he gestured to the dress as though it were the simplest gift he will give her, “is nothing compared to what waits for you at home.”

He offered her his hand then and the little whispers told her to take it with her left hand so she did. With that hand, they said, he shall give you the world.

The Crown Prince slid a ring into her third finger. It was an oval-shaped red diamond set in a band of gold and as soon as it was on her, it felt like it had always been there. He was covering her in treasure and while it felt new, it felt right. 

“May I kiss your hand, Your Highness?” he asked, softly.

“Ye- yes,” she replied, her voice shaking. 

Rey gasped when his lips touched her trembling hands with a searing kiss. For a brief moment afterward, he leaned his forehead on her delicate fingers and it was a gesture so vulnerable that it struck Rey’s heart like a lightning bolt. I don’t deserve any of this, she thought, not this man, not this ring, not that dress, none of it. I have not nearly been good enough for any of this. 

This is all moving so, so fast. 

She must have said that last bit out loud because he gripped her hand a little tighter. As though she was going to run away, as though she would want to be anywhere other than with him, even in fear. 

“Don’t be afraid, Your Highness,” he said, as he stood up with his eyes locked on hers, “I feel it too. You're not alone.”

Rey closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. In front of her, she could feel the Crown Prince doing the same. 

A treasure hides in the trees. It is yours, the voices whispered one last time. 

After a moment, she laced her fingers through his and squeezed it. He squeezed it back. 

* * *

“Do you think you’d be alright with me calling you Benjamin?” she asked, as they walked back to the palace with their hands entwined in between them. He couldn't let her go if he tried, and she wouldn't have let him even if he did.

His men trailed behind, carrying the single iron chest of any importance. They left the rest in the woods for thieves and vagrants to puzzle over. On his other hand, he gripped the hilt of his sword. On her other hand, she held the reins to Sir Beebee. 

“Of course, my love,” he said and after a beat, asked, “Would it be alright if I called you ‘my love’?”

“A bit premature,” she quipped, half-jokingly, “but I could live with it, I suppose.”

“Sweetheart?” he tried again.

“I don’t mind that either,” she answered. “But Rey would suffice as we work our way to ‘my love’.” 

He nodded his assent. “Rey is a man’s name, is it not?”

“Yes, but it’s my name too. Renata is too stuffy for me, don’t you think?”

“After meeting you? Yes, I’d have to agree,” he said. 

“Are you disappointed I’m not Renata?”

He chuckled and moved close enough that their shoulders were touching and he could whisper in her ear, “Renata was a portrait. You are so much better.”

They’d been walking for nearly half an hour by then, and she could see the tallest tower in the palace just beyond the trees. Just this morning, she’d have been relieved to be making her way back home, but now she couldn’t wait to get the formalities out of the way so she could finally be in Alderaan with her husband. Rey wouldn’t miss her life in court, but she would miss her small circle of friends, her brother, and her parents. Her heart was already breaking at the mere thought that she would be so far away from them, but at the same time, she felt so much excitement for the new life she was days away from leading. 

She’d always been _the spare_ in England, the less important, less friendly one. The one who was strong-willed and wily. 

The man beside her looked at her like she was _the only one_ that mattered.

Rey marveled at just how much things could change in the span of hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Can I call you Eddie?" but make it Reylo.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
